The tragic juvenile

Young man just a little lost as he leaves adolescence
Maturity seems to be difficult to encourage from the inside out
Struggling to be somebody, to turn into something
Somewhere in the ball park of his parents mislead expectations

The many mysteries of life eluding him
and those around him that know those mysteries as complex facts say nothing
Thinking in some way he´ll be interrupted by them
Rendered confused and useless

Alas it´s that short time before midlife
that the mind must take in everything
like a cyclone across every continent of the world
There he sits, football his only knowledge

His parents will get a friend of a friend
to get him a job as an engineer
In a decade replaced by a robot
who had more interest in the world than he did

When the warden comes

When the warden comes
Short legs on him waddling toward your cell
Torch and nightstick braced in hands
To touch the bars as if the gates to hell

The corridor echoes and a dozen damned men sigh
For the rest of their foreseeable lives
Hope a torn doll
hands braced on bars that once wielded knives

The grin starts growing as short legs makes his rounds
The taunt, the voice that doesn't surpass a burp
 His nightstick clicks on bars as he ascends the hall
as he would a suburb in hell

The grin appears front of the cell
and everything is locked

Tom cruise is a little better than you

Tom cruise is a professional dancer
You'll go up to his mansion and test your skill
Piano getting bent out of shape
House keepers trying to escape
You half way out of your knickers kicking it still

Tom cruise is the ultra entrepreneur
Where he sees talent he promotes it with goodwill
You're not the apple of his eye you are the split grape
How far that falls short behind tightly drawn drapes
You'd give the world to impress and get that five figure bill

Tom Cruise is hiring and goofs around the beach, city is bursting
It's perhaps a paid one off in Hollywood hills
That will leave you reminiscing at your window sill
Still paying the rent albeit scraping it together late
A sardine can dwelling, c.v giving, H.R fall bait
Swallow the pill, write the will, each hour obliged to be filled

Tom cruise doesn't care he is at the top of his game
Scientology his fingers in those magical coffers and tills
And there are a million admirers paying their rates
falling for their 25 cent newspaper article hate
Manipulated in cold to feel heat and in heat to feel the chill

Olivia six years old

Six years old
another six paces down the path
toward the world
Through handwriting reading and math

See the best in each day
and each day will deliver
Have a happy birthday
but have happiness every day Olivia

Look after your sister
even when she annoys you
give your best tips to her
Extra years are extra clues

Good luck and god bless you
in everything you do

The dearest armor

Often she heals me
when the world seems to have it's guns out
And when the days are not generous
And the city itself is a wild animal

I reach for her
As those who surround pull triggers
The day a thief of cheer at times
She is there to appease it's crimes

She mends my bullet proof vest
pulls out the shrapnel and sends me back out there
with a grin as vicious as a shotgun
When she smiles at me I'm reloaded

Tootles´ bitter limbo

Tootles
down the road with the legs that beg to walk all over tomorrow
The sprinkle of ambition that make the awkward swing along the way
Hands embrace your life, the one you try to create and fly with
Tootles, but why do you put your hate out to dry

Why don´t you find it in your heart instead
heaven forbid you´d ever lift the lid on your feelings
heaven a far cry as you label it a myth
A painting on the church ceiling

tootles where´s the fantastic bazooka of all your rage
Let it out of it´s cage and rhetoric saliva across the table
hate in rage ablaze with the lost boy outside the hospital
Alone and frightened, death not a very good uncle

Tootles how hard is that denial you whip yourself silly with
What part of you still insists you are worthless
Sons of confusion, sun light the middle way
What´s in the middle of you? where is your humility?

Tootles hard done by winter a strange revenge
Your enemy faceless, camped up in your heart
As you scream out at the world with half your breath
and deny the suffering sending your painful rhetoric with the other half

Tootles the two dead ducks knew no better
neither did we, up our eyes go
Just lost souls shaking at the storm this Earth ever is
Shaking at your judgements tootles but you didn´t get it either
Hell´s on Earth you claim hiding that fever

Your dogma is dog eat dog but your bites are well infected as if fresh
Those injuries are as old as your facial flesh
There´s a good few holes in your arguement
insist on those lies that are so soundbite
until your eyes no longer hold the light

The last live show

Platform surrounded by colorful survivors
Stage performers just the menagerie remaining
To warm the concrete
to inspire a hope and cause forgetfulness
Of the stain defeat

Empty cafetarias, long benches and tables
Where hundreds would share their faith in fables
Tattered books faded ink
They invested everything in their sacred fairytales
Instead of think

And after the drones turned
Hot, restless and hostile
Each home reduced to a smouldering hole
A rotting patch within a landscape a dead dalmation
Cities on fire accelerating death tolls

And now this, a commemoration in clown suits
for the two dozen survivors
I get in a van and drive to the nearest hotel still intact
To rest my weary head
And invent a fairytale to conceal these ugly facts